


Temperance

by annabagnell



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Birth, M/M, Mpreg, Parentlock, Water birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd always wanted a water birth, since he realised he was an Omega; there was something about the intimacy of it, the idea that it would just be himself and his Alpha as he laboured to bring their child into the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temperance

**Author's Note:**

> For someone who wanted an intimate water birth. 
> 
> This fic contains mpreg and explicit birth, so if it's not your thing, go ahead and turn around. 
> 
> As always, comments and critiques are welcome!

"Sherlock, yeah, it's…yeah, it's time," John whispered harshly, twisting in his chair and clutching at the armrests, knuckles white. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, but he could see the dark shadow that passed in front of him and could tell that Sherlock was kneeling beside his chair. 

"I'll run the bath, then, shall I?" Sherlock murmured, laying a hand on John's tense thigh and kneading for a few seconds. John nodded and let his breath out in a whoosh as Sherlock rose and left the sitting room, gritting his teeth as the contraction peaked, then passed. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw Sherlock's laptop sitting abandoned on the table before him, and he could hear the water rushing into the bathtub, the sound of the splash changing as the hot water filled the chipped porcelain. He absently rubbed at his belly, the motion soothing his nerves and the wriggling baby working its way into position. 

He'd always wanted a water birth, since he realised he was an Omega; there was something about the intimacy of it, the idea that it would just be himself and his Alpha as he laboured to bring their child into the world. When he found he was pregnant, it was one of the first things they had discussed, and to John's surprise Sherlock was more than happy to take classes, become a certified if somewhat amateurish midwife (a term he had scoffed at but accepted grudgingly with his diploma) in order to make John's wish a reality. 

And now, Sherlock padded quietly back into the room and helped John to his feet, dropping a kiss to his temple as he led the doctor to the bathroom. Steam poured out from the tub, fogging the glass and dampening the floors. Slowly, Sherlock peeled John's jumper from his body, a light sheen of sweat making his undershirt stick to his skin. As he knelt to pull John's trousers down, another contraction gripped John's middle, and Sherlock laid his hands on John's hips and held him through the spasm. John's hands fell to grasp at Sherlock's shoulders, closing his eyes and breathing heavily through the pain. 

Sherlock slid the trousers down John's trembling thighs as his muscles eased, nuzzling his cheek against John's belly and brushing kisses to the marked skin. "There you are, quiet now. I've got you." And John smiled, relaxed, let his hands slide into Sherlock's hair and rest there until Sherlock rose, brushing off his knees and returning John's smile with an easy one of his own. 

Silently, he took off his own clothes, until both Alpha and Omega were nude, and Sherlock guided John into the full bath. John sighed as the warm water eased the ache that had set in earlier that morning, that had clued him in that something was off, that perhaps today was in fact the day. He let Sherlock knead his shoulders in the gap between contractions, lolling his head back against the rolled towel as the detective's long fingers released knots and tension he hadn't known he held. 

The water was beginning to cool when John felt his body start to shift, the baby's head moving further down into the birth canal, and he gripped the sides of the tub as he fought the urge to push. An unbearable pressure built in his groin even as the contraction eased, and he whined long and low as the sensation grew. Finally, with a gush, he felt his waters break and release, the slightly yellow fluid mingling with the chilling bathwater and signaling the onset of active labour. 

He let Sherlock drain the tub and sat, shivering as cool beads of water ran down his skin as his mate refilled it. He pressed his legs against the sides of the bath, trying to ease the pain in his pelvis now that he was no longer buoyed in the water. Longer contractions, shorter breaks between now, forced the baby down further, and Sherlock looked on in concern as John tossed his head back and forth as he strained against his body's desire to push, to expel. 

For the first time since he'd gotten into the bath, John spoke, his voice hoarse and low. "Get behind me," he pled, swiping at his sweat-beaded forehead with the side of his wrist. "Please, I…I need you." Sherlock twisted the knob, stopping the water flow before it filled the tub too full for him to join his labouring mate. He climbed into the bath, foot slipping on the damp porcelain, and slid down the slanted side until he was able to slot John between his legs. 

John allowed Sherlock to pull his body back until his shoulder blades pressed against Sherlock's pectorals, pulled a hand to rest on his stomach. He would know when it was time to safely push, but it was not that time yet, and he needed distraction. The way Sherlock was holding him was helping, the warm wiry body pressed against his own muscular frame keeping him safe, protected. His Alpha's arms wrapped around his chest, cupping his full breast with one hand while the other drifted lower, spinning circles in the water and drumming against John's tight belly. 

John cried out as the next contraction threatened to split him in two, and he finally let his instinct have its way and gave in to the need to push. Panting as he strained, keening as the force peaked and he pushed. Sherlock pressing small, short, sweet kisses to his nape and his shoulders and cupping his mounded belly kept him grounded, kept his eyes open and his hands fisted and his body going. His Alpha, coaching his Omega through labour, working in tandem to bring their child forth. 

John cried out, throat hoarse, and pressed back into Sherlock's body with each contraction, fighting fatigue now as he pushed. He could feel the baby moving down each time he pushed, stretching him, pulling him open and forcing grunts from his lungs. Sherlock whispered, soft soothing words, quiet encouragement to his Omega, and John responded in his own way with stronger strains, longer cries, harder pushes.

The water was growing cool again, but John tuned out the noise of his environment and focused on the feeling, the work, the labour. Each tightening muscle, stretching skin, brought their child one bit closer, push by push until John would be able to hold this new, tiny human in his arms, see its waving limbs and hear its cries. He cried out again, body wracked with pain, and Sherlock's hands pressed against his tightening stomach muscles as if to give him strength. And that strength John took, pulling it from Sherlock and channeling it into each strain. 

And then the baby crowned. Oh, how badly it hurt, to be stretched wider than he'd ever been and with such a large mass behind it still, his muscles aching and smarting as they rippled with the force of the contractions. Hormones battling to keep him labouring, relaxing the muscles of his birth canal to allow their child's passage and yet more chemicals signaling his body's need to strain, to expel. With an earsplitting roar, John gave a mighty push and the baby's head broke free, the tiny features just visible over the curve of his still-swollen belly. Tiny, wrinkled, with blood and fluids swirling in the water around it, and the most beautiful thing John had ever seen. He cried, tears streaming down his face as Sherlock bent to check for the umbilical cord, nodded wordlessly when his Alpha told him it was safe to push, that soon he'd have his baby, the result of hours of hard work sleeping in his arms. 

But the shoulders were next, and god did it seem impossible when John felt their width, their solidity pressing out against his birth canal. He shook his head, unable to carry on until Sherlock peppered his face with kisses and whispered words of encouragement into his ear, reminded him what he was working towards. John let his whitened hand release the edge of the tub and seized Sherlock's hand instead, squeezing it and borrowing his mate's strength to push. 

Leaning forward, straining and pushing and crying and screaming and sweating and shaking and then he could feel each shoulder slip free, first one and then the other and then one last agonizing push and Sherlock dove forward to catch the infant as its body exited John's, lifting it above the water and bringing it to rest on John's heaving chest. The world blurred around John as he held his baby, this tiny human wriggling and whimpering at the injustice of its exit from the cozy nine-month home it had inhabited, and as the whimpers grew into high-pitched cries the blurring turned to tangible tears and he could hear Sherlock talking to him, murmuring in his ear and telling him what a good job he'd done, how strong of a man he was to work so hard and so long, and John just smiled. 

Gently now out of the bath, holding tight to his newborn as Sherlock toweled him off, steadying his shaking legs and letting himself be wrapped in a robe. Sherlock cut the baby's cord and smiled, teary-eyed, as John gingerly handed him his new son to hold for the first time.

The three of them spent their first night as a family in their bed, arms and legs intertwined and son cradled protectively against each of their chests. This was home, here in this room, new life sparkled in every corner and positively radiated from the tiny being sleeping between them. And everything was good, and everything was great, and everything was wonderful; the three of them, together. 


End file.
